A Flyin' Rat? How's That Workin' Out For Ya?
by Manchester
Summary: A hardened Slayer veteran gleefully takes the opportunity to do some serious messing with the head of a costumed guy who clearly has no clue at all about vamps and the other supernatural crap.


Author's Note: This story is set in the 2011 animated superhero film _Batman: Year One_ when Bruce Wayne is just starting out as the Caped Crusader, an inexperienced defender of Gotham much different than the grim professional paranoid he became later on. The timeline's been altered to put this sometime in the mid-2000's when it's several years after the Sunnydale Collapse. I started off writing it as a minor joke having to do with one character voiced in the movie, but it soon changed into Faith refusing to be impressed the slightest by some dude in a mask and a black cape who barges in uninvited on Slayer business.

* * *

Finally, the idiot in the warehouse rafters made his move.

Faith was busy killing time the last minute or so in brushing vampire dust off her clothes, not wanting to tip off whoever was up there. She'd known this right away after shoving open the warehouse door and just before taking care of tonight's New Council business that someone else hiding above among the shadows at the decrepit building ceiling had been watching everything.

The sudden awareness of being under observation by some unknown eyewitness made Faith about to commence her attack impulsively decide to tone things pretty much down concerning her Slayer abilities. She wouldn't have dared something like that last night elsewhere in Gotham City, not while going up against a master vampire and his second-tier demonic flunkies. That had been a good, tough fight, unlike tonight when all what needed to be done was to finish tidying up the leftover fledges tracked down this evening by Faith.

Funny thing was, it'd been a kind of interesting challenge, limiting herself to merely showing off the fighting skills which a highly-trained but still ordinary female martial artist could perform defeating four vamps maybe only a few weeks out of their graves. Novice warrior girls just starting on the New Council qualifying runs before becoming full members of this supernatural organization's protective squads worldwide would've finished the job in half the time, but the last Called Slayer? _Please._ A tenth or less of even that, for damn sure, but it had to be dragged out tonight.

So, in between letting the vamps' futile slashes pass a fraction of an inch over her skin, a dodging Faith in the midst of her amateurish foes was far more preoccupied with ensuring the spectator from on high had a good eyeful. All while commenting inside her head during an ongoing stream of consciousness peppered with the occasional obscenity.

*Make it slow, quarter speed'll do for the run at 'em and the first strike. Oh, yeah, that set 'em off, taking out their buddy. Duck - not so fast - that asshole's gonna try for my throat - awww, gee, did losin' mosta yer fingers hurt? Where'd my knife in my left hand come from? More important, ya shoulda kept watchin' where my stake was - two down. I don't believe this! The other pair, they're actually lookin' at each other, wonderin' what to do next! Andrew could win 'gainst these bozos, even with the geek pissin' hisself at it! Hell, I shoulda left for a pack of smokes at the corner store and finished alla these 'fore comin' back to wait more goddamn hours for these morons to remember they're supposed to be fightin'! That knee I just ruined, dipwad, ya needed the hint, okay? Yep, the guy behind ya, he's gonna shove ya aside, right into what B called Mr. Pointy. Yer fuckin' dead, stupid, ya don't need to blink! Just go through the dust cloud awready at me! Ooops, the little girlie-wirlie did it instead, sucker. Alright, that's done, but make sure to look wasted now. Take some deep breaths, wipe the shit off yer face. Sell it, sister. C'mon, c'mon, I don't wanna hang around here some more, waitin' for the peepin'-tom up there make up his mind.*

As if summoned by the end of her inner monologue, Mr. Mysterious came swooping down. No, really, he suddenly landed on both feet in front of Faith, holding up at head level bunched in his hands the front edge of his cape as if this guy could actually fly and had just done this from the ceiling rafters.

Only a Slayer's eyes could've seen the brief flicker of the end of a painted-black rope or cable being let go from this guy's right hand to speedily reel itself upwards. Not evidently reacting to what she'd spotted, Faith continued to stare at the guy now dropping his cape to hang nearly to the warehouse floor.

Standing there stock-still with his cape draped around a very fit body and sending a blank gaze through some kinda white glasses or lenses in the slits of his pointy mask at the young woman he'd caught in the middle of her crimes tonight, The Batman intoned to her in a cold monotone, "You're under arrest for multiple counts of murder. Turn around and put your hands behind your back, _now._ "

Faith didn't move, to instead irately think hard, conclusions coming to her at superhuman speed. *Aw, shit. We got a goddamn vigilante here on some sorta crusade who doesn't have one fuckin' idea 'bout the real nightmares lurkin' in the dark. Prob'ly trained hisself and fixed him up a coupla sweet toys to impress the street gangs, but otherwise, he ain't nothing' but normal human from what I can tell. One single punch from me, that'll be all it'll take to put him down…'cept that's no fun, happenin' so fast. Nah, time to try somethin' else for a whole lotta giggles, straight from Giles' Slayer 101 lecture on why us bitches don't do the vigilante stuff.*

The mid-to-late twenties female in front of The Batman continued to regard him with stupefied shock, or so he thought. If Bruce Wayne could somehow have sensed the inner wicked grin promptly blossoming within the mind of Faith Lehane, that man could've avoided all the rest of the immense humiliation heading his way by instantly running like hell.

Though, of course, he wouldn't have. Not The Batman, also known in the future as The Dark Knight, The Cowled Crimefighter, The World's Greatest Detective, The Gotham Goliath, The Masked Manhunter, and so on…

Soon to be added, starting tonight, was one more sobriquet for Mr. Wayne: The Poor Bastard.

Clearing her throat, the young woman spoke directly for the first time to the man clad in black and ominously looming over her, "'Scuse me, ossifer, but don't ya gotta tell me yer badge number when ya put the cuffs on me?"

Not a muscle quivered in what could be seen of the man's lower face below his mask otherwise hiding his features. The Batman had naturally schooled himself to refrain from showing any emotion whatsoever in the course of his duty of protecting and defending Gotham from criminal scum. That didn't mean Bruce wasn't inwardly dumbfounded by two specific things at this point.

First, the sheer defiance shown to him by that girl now smirking at him. Second, despite that same female's definite Boston accent, how _identical_ her voice sounded to how Selina Kyle spoke.

Putting aside the sudden suspicion that perhaps Catwoman had a sister or other family member, The Batman got back to business. In the same forceful tone he'd previously tried, another statement rumbled through the warehouse air: "Don't think you'll talk your way out of this! You just murdered four men!"

Faith folded her arms across her chest, and took a deep breath. *Oh, yeah, don't care if I can't see his eyes, he just looked at my tits. Time to up it a notch.*

She ostentatiously glanced around the large, dingy storage room devoid of anyone else but the two of them there. "Ya sure 'bout that? Where's alla the bodies, mister?"

That Batman snapped back while indignantly pointing a gloved finger at the layer of ashes now coating the warehouse floor, "I saw everything! You used a new kind of weapon, one that turned your victims into dust! Now, enough talking! I'm going to put you under restraints and then deliver you to the nearest police station. They'll provide you with a lawyer-"

"Heyyyyy, don't get ahead of yerself, big fella," Faith cheerfully interrupted, now really enjoying how things were going. She began counting off on her fingers.

"One, ya _ain't_ parta the boys. No uniform, no badge, no piggy smell comin' off ya. Nope, what I'm feelin' here is someone dressin' up and takin' back the night, all with no okay from the big shots runnin' this place. That means ya got no official right to arrest anyone, unless ya do it as a regular citizen. Two, ya got no proof at all of me scraggin' a coupla guys 'cept your word. Wonder how well that's gonna help with the DA and the resta city lawyers from a weirdo pretendin' to be a six-foot-tall bat. More likely they'll put ya in a room with a shrink askin' ya 'bout yer whole obsession with them little winged turds livin' in caves. Three, let's say it still goes all yer way: me arrested, charged, an' havin' a trial. Guess who's gonna be the only witness there? Yeah, _you._ "

Faith chortled at how the guy she'd been lecturing finally flinched a little at that last sentence. Even if he didn't otherwise react, she knew she'd gotten to him then and there. "Don't wanna do it, come out in full daylight wearin' that rubber bondage outfit and sittin' in fronta the judge, jury, and a packed courtroom? Tough noogies, buster. It's that way, or I walk free an clear. Ya try it anyways, I'm gonna get me the best lawyer ever and he'll turn ya into the world's biggest joke. Might even make ya take off the mask-"

That was when The Batman lunged at the woman, if only to make her stop mentioning Bruce's worse nightmare which didn't involve Crime Alley. Even though he moved at all the speed he could muster, the small fist swung right at his jaw blurred much, much faster. Next came the pain and an immense flash of light in the man's brain which abruptly turned into darkness.

Rubbing her knuckles while gloweringly regarding the limp, unconscious body lying upon his back onto stained concrete flooring, Faith groused, "Dammit, buddy, ya went off too soon! I hadda few more minutes describin' how the only thing ya coulda gotten me on was trespassin' and property damage, breakin' inta here. 'Course, ya did the exact same thing, unless ya own this place."

A thoughtful expression crossed Faith's face while she cast a considering gaze around at their location. "Naw, ain't likely. Woulda meant ya got some serious bucks, but if ya did, why prance 'round in that stupid costume? Put up some decent housing instead, provide good jobs, fund some politicians who actually care 'bout the voters, spread around yer money like that where it'll do better than this. My old bad neighborhood, that woulda quieted down things considerable, not a loony with a bat-symbol on their chest hangin' 'round in back alleys. Ya got issues, mac, and they'll get ya killed someday. Guess I'll read 'bout it in the papers then, if ya were anybody important."

Beginning to turn away from her defeated foe she'd now dismissed, Faith stopped and eyed with amused interest the muscular body steadily breathing in his insensible slumber. She took a step there, chuckling under her breath, "Maybe this'll make ya think twice 'bout yer vigilante career and try somethin' else new. Couldn't hurt, nope."

Several minutes later, Bruce Wayne woke up in a lot of pain due to an aching jaw. Shakily getting up onto his boots, The Batman stared down at the terse message scraped with a heel onto the floor ashes here:

COLLECTED A SOUVENIR. YOU WANT IT BACK, DO BETTER THAN TONIGHT. STILL NOT GONNA HAPPEN, THOUGH. HINT: LEARN ABOUT FAITH THE SLAYER AND EVERYTHING ELSE.

Wincing as he touched the large bruise covering the entire left side of his lower face, a flabbergasted Bruce Wayne wondered out loud, "Faith the _what?_ "

It was at that moment that Bruce suddenly became aware that something he normally possessed while being The Batman was missing…

A dozen blocks away, Faith easily hurdled a car going through a street intersection. Already at the other side of the intersection when the sound of screeching brakes hit her ears, this grinning Slayer running at her maximum speed whooped with glee at how the stolen black cape she was now wearing was enjoyably flapping away, pulled out horizontally by the wind of her passage.

"B's gonna be so jealous! She might be the big fashion gal, but I got a cape and she don't! Took it fair and square, too!"

* * *

Further Author's Note: As mentioned above, the joke has to do with the animated _Batman: Year One._ In that movie, the character of Selina Kyle was voiced by none other than Eliza Dushku. Yep, that'd really confuse Bruce if and when he meets Faith…

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